Of All The Things That I Don't Know (Part II)
by Anna W
Summary: Meant to be unfinished. Read I Don't Know: Rewrite instead.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Spot felt his hands tremble ever so slightly as a frigid breeze blew harshly across the Brooklyn Lodging house roof, his threadbare coat doing little to shield him from the wintry weather that, within the last week, had taken an unapologetic hold of the city. He stared out into the dark cloudy sky, leaning exhaustedly against the roof's outside ledge while running his hands slowly over his face.

He could barely keep his eyes open, even in the midst of what they said would be one of the coldest nights on record for that time of year. But there was still so much left to do before he would dare lay his head on his pillow to rest.

_Our pillow. _

His chest tightened with a flash of pain as he immediately shook his body against the soft voice that had so easily intruded into his thoughts. It was a voice that he had come to know quite well over the last fifteen, mostly sleepless nights—a harsh mutation of a timbre he had long loved. It had relentlessly haunted both his waking and sleeping hours, cruelly reminding him of all his inadequacies with any quiet moment that passed. Most of the time he could force it into the back of his thoughts, pushing past the sickness that swelled within his stomach and the fogginess that grew within his vision. But tonight, it seemed near impossible to escape the torturous words reverberating so clearly within his troubled mind as well as the beautiful face that always accompanied their echo.

Her face.

He shuddered as a pair of terror-filled green eyes flashed across his vision, seeming to strangely materialize in the dark night sky above him.

_You can't fix this. _

"I can, Kate," he mumbled somewhat deliriously as he dug into his breast pocket for a cigarette, shakily bringing the unlit stub to his chapped lips.

"Who you talkin' to, boss?"

Spot physically jolted as a deep voice jarringly interrupted the silence around him. He turned irritably to meet the very concerned stare of his second in command before striking a match against the ledge and lighting his cigarette. Rummy stood there silently for several moments, his eyes seeming to perform a slow once over of Spot's state. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, taking several tentative steps nearer to Spot's form as he murmured, "When was the last time you slept, huh?"

Spot only inhaled aggressively from his smoke, turning to once again lean against the ledge before asking, "He talk?"

Rummy's sigh was heavy as he slowly meandered next to Spot, crossing his arms over his chest and softly replying, "Not yet."

"I don't have time for not yet, Rummy," Spot said sharply inhaling a final puff of smoke before irritably flicking the remains off of the roof.

He turned to face Rummy, his eyes taking short notice of what looked to be blood on Rummy's knuckles as the tall boy carefully asked, "So what doya want us ta do with 'im, then?"

Spot coldly met Rummy's stare as he said flatly, "Like I said, I don't got time for not yet. So I guess it's my turn to ask some questions."

Rummy appraised Spot momentarily, his dark eyes seeming to take in the seriousness of Spot's response. But as the Brooklyn leader turned to climb over the railing to leave, he felt a sturdy hand upon his shoulder, Rummy's voice echoing with purpose as he said, "You ain't goin' in there, boss."

Spot forcefully shrugged off Rummy's hand, glaring at the tall boy before he said in quiet warning, "You don't fuckin' tell me what to do, Rummy. Ever. You got that?" He paused intensifying his stern look before continuing, "Now let's go to the warehouse."

But Rummy again interceded in Spot's exit, muttering, "I can't let you go, Spot. Not when you're like this."

"Do you think this is a joke, Rummy? Are you fucking enjoying yourself? 'Cause I'm two seconds away from beating the everliving shit outa you!" Spot hissed, grasping the tip of his cane in his hand before he noted Rummy taking a step back. "Now, get outa my way. If you can't stomach what I'm about to do to this motherfuckin' Fiore underling, then I suggest you go inside with the rest of the little ones and wait for me to come back."

Rummy was silent, his eyes shining in uncharacteristic dismay. But Spot merely shook his head and ignored the large boy, turning and jumping onto the top of the fire escape and starting down the metal stairs.

"She wouldn't want you lowerin' yourself to their level, Conlon."

Spot froze, his brain and body seeming to both jerk to immovable standstills as Rummy's words settled more fully within him. And in the silent moments following, he felt a sickness begin to slowly grow once more in the pit of his stomach—a violent wave of pain and fear that threatened to completely overwhelm him right there on the metal steps.

But he swallowed back the bile rising in his throat, flashing a dangerous glare in Rummy's direction as he said, "And what the hell do you know about what she would or wouldn't want, Rummy?"

Rummy's eyes looked sad, his voice, however, remaining steady when he added, "Y'know, we had a relationship too—me an' her. We talked about a lot a' shit together. An' a long time ago she made me promise her that I'd look after you—that I'd keep you on the straight an' narrow if she ever wasn't able to." Rummy paused, his eyes looking distant for a short moment before he refocused his attention back upon Spot, continuing harshly, "An' you an' I both know what you're capable of, especially right now. You ain't slept in weeks, you ain't eaten in days, an' if I let you go in there like this, I'm almost certain you'll lose control."

_He's right, Spot. _

The Brooklyn leader shuddered at the corresponding voice that loudly corroborated Rummy's words, his jaw twitching with the slightest hint of emotion as he saw green eyes dancing radiatively above Rummy's head. He looked to them for a moment, feeling the bile again rise into his throat as he murmured, "Fine. I'm gonna go catch a few hours rest. But if it's still the same story by the time I'm up tomorrow morning, I'm goin' in there."

Rummy nodded once in affirmation, peering over the ledge at Spot's retreating form and then disappearing back into the darkness surrounding him. And after climbing in through the window of his room, Spot shook his head slowly, running his hands aggressively over his face before falling into his bed fully clothed.

_You didn't keep me safe, Tom. _

Spot clenched his eyes closed, pain radiating throughout every inch of his body as he murmured, "I know, Kate. But I'm gonna fix it."


	2. Chapter 1

Shoutout to Cassy4991 for being an amazing support through getting this chapter ready. I couldn't have done it without. To my other readers, if you're still out there, sorry for the long break before posting this. Writer's block is THE WORST. Leave me a review and let me know how you are liking this Part II. :-)

Chapter 1

The warehouse storage room was cold and dim when Spot quietly entered through the semi-ajar door, closing it securely behind him before moving to lean against the shadowed wall in the far back. He tipped his cap up marginally in greeting as Boxer's eyes took quick note of his arrival, the bulky boy's body blocking the real reason Spot had been summoned to trek across Brooklyn in the middle of the night.

"I toldja I ain't got nothin' else ta say ta you boys."

Spot remained still—unmoving and emotionless as he heard a groan of pain follow the surprisingly satisfying sound of a fist connecting harshly with a jaw. He watched Boxer back up, allowing Rummy a multitude of space to land several more aggressive punches to the scruffy looking man tied up against the far wall.

"You sure about that?" Boxer's voice was steely as he bent down to look the seedy Fiore underling directly in the eyes before continuing, "'Cause you an' a few of your fuckin' lowlife pals took somethin' that belongs to Brooklyn. An' you ain't leavin' this room 'til you tell us how to get 'er back."

"That little whore ain't ever belonged to Brooklyn. And she sure as shit don't now," the man's bloodied face turned up into a disturbing smirk as his words echoed about the room.

But Boxer's fist immediately cracked across his nose in response, the muscular boy hissing, "You talk about 'er like that again an' I"ll kill ya, ya hear? Ain't nobody talks about 'er like that!"

Spot could feel his own fists clenching harshly at his side, the vivid green eyes that subsequently flashed before his wide open gaze causing him to take a step forward in rage.

_You know you won't be able to stop yourself once you start hitting him. Besides, we both know Rummy will carry you out of here if he thinks there's any chance you'll blow your top. _

Spot felt his jaw twitch at the critical voice that echoed loudly throughout his head. He had hoped that the few hours of sleep he had secured the night before would have put a stop to the haunting vocalization, but it had only seemed to fuel an increase in both its frequency and cruelty. He wanted to howl at the strange spectral timbre—to shut the hell up, to leave him the fuck alone. To let him focus long enough so that he could plan his next best moves. But he knew if he dare give credence to the persistent articulations swirling through his brain it would only act as a final confirmation to himself—and perhaps even those closest to him—of what he had quietly been fearing since he first began to hear it.

That he really might be going mad.

At that thought he quickly steadied himself, taking a deep breath and shaking his head in the hopes of clearing the fogginess that had settled over him. He had to get a fucking hold of himself. He couldn't allow his thoughts to completely consume him like they had been for the last several days. She _needed_ him to be together and ready. Otherwise...well...he didn't want to think about what the alternatives to that looked like.

He felt bile rise in his throat as her green eyes and upturned lips passed through his vision, the beautiful sound of her laugh seeming to echo in the space around him. He could feel his head swarm again with images of her—memories surging forth like a massive tidal wave, each one seeming to diligently knick away at his insides. But he swiftly swallowed back down the sudden nausea, shifting his attention to rolling and lighting a cigarette with his shaking hands. He had to focus on the most important thing right now—getting Kate back home as quickly and safely as possible.

He noted Rummy's dark eyes flick momentarily toward him at the sound of his match scratching against the wall. But the large boy quickly turned back to his charge and muttered venomously, "Listen here ya filthy animal, we'll make this real easy. You tell us where she is and we'll consider lettin your sorry ass go in mostly one piece."

Spot's eyebrows raised as the foul man hawked a large wad of phlegm at Rummy in defiant response, the tree of a boy quickly sidestepping the disgusting discharge while Boxer's fist plunged intently into the man's gut. Boxer's voice echoed loudly through the warehouse as he grunted out, "Or we can make this real difficult and beat the information out of you. Your choice, ya disgustin' piece of shit."

Spot watched the Fiore goon sputter in response to Boxer's immobilizing blow, blood shining on the man's teeth as he raised his beady, somewhat listless eyes to meet Boxer's hard stare, scoffing, "I told ya before, I ain't got nothin' to say to you. Now your leader Spot Conlon," he paused, spitting some blood onto the dirt floor next to him before purposefully smirking back up at both Boxer and Rummy, saying, "Him I'd like ta meet. I might even be persuaded to say some things if he ever shows his fuckin' face. If he's really as intimidatin' an' dangerous as everyone says maybe I'll feel more ready ta talk when _he_ starts askin' this shit."

Spot took a deep drag off of his cigarette, having a sudden urge to beat the self-satisfied look clean off the man's face. He blew out a steady stream of smoke as he pushed himself off of the wall he had been leaning against and took several steps nearer to the altercation in front of him. Both Boxer and Rummy turned toward him, subsequently backing up to allow the man a clear view of Spot's emerging form.

The man's eyes squinted into the shadows as Spot again puffed on his smoke, slowly stepping ever closer to the group. And when the light of the kerosene lamp finally bathed Spot's body in a muted glow, he noted his captive's face paling significantly at the sight of the now visible Brooklyn leader. He stopped mere inches from the man's somewhat crumpled form, taking a hefty drag from his cigarette before holding it between his thumb and forefinger and crouching to meet the man's dull stare. Spot's voice was steady, his blue gaze cold as he gruffly said, "I'm here. You can see my fuckin' face." He paused, glaring intently into the man's widening gaze before hissing, "Now...doya wanna do this the easy way, or the hard way?"

Spot noted the man's posture shrinking slightly at the Brooklynite's unfiltered harshness, the gang underling's empty eyes contracting just enough to let Spot know that he was clearly intimidated.

As he fucking should be.

"You're _the_ Spot Conlon—the one that all them mick gangs've been tryin' to recruit for years?" the man stuttered, shaking his head slightly as Spot brought the cigarette to his mouth to take one more aggressive drag.

"As I live and breathe," Spot replied coldly, his blue eyes never leaving the man's ever warier face.

He could feel his mouth compressing into a thin, harsh line, his eyes almost sparking in warning as he took in the dirty, middle-aged varmint huddled before him. The man was muscular and lean, built similarly to Spot himself. His blonde hair lay plastered greasily against his forehead and his watery, almost yellow eyes stared back at Spot with an emptiness that made the Brooklyn leader want to tear his filthy head off.

The Fiore goon flinched slightly when Spot carelessly flicked the stub of his smoke upon the man's arm. But, almost in challenge, the man raised his gaze to Spot's, a cruel smirk gracing his lips before he muttered forcibly, "Well I guess that whore must be pretty important if Spot Conlon himself decided to show up. She's a looker to be sure and she don't take too kindly to bein' handled. But it ain't that hard ta hold 'er down and make 'er do what ya want, if ya know what I mean."

Spot felt his knuckles split as his fist connected with the foul-mouthed man's unshaven chin over and over again, eventually moving to beat on the man's shoulder and gut.

_You want to kill him don't you? _

A shudder wracked Spot's body as the eerie voice flashed into his awareness, making his mechanically swinging limbs falter. His eyes met Rummy's visibly worried ones only momentarily before watering in pain, the voice once again echoing with a resounding cry.

_He touched me_—_hurt me. You know he did. He said as much. So what are you going to do? Just let him sit there? _

Spot reared his fist back to again strike at the shaking Fiore underling below him. But before he could land yet another punch to the cowering man, Spot felt a sturdy hand catch the crook of his elbow, immediately putting a stop to anymore violent action. He turned his head, his rage mixing with a new feeling of irritation to see Rummy's darkened, though intent gaze looking meaningfully back at him. And after several silent moments of staring into Rummy's concerned face, he could slowly feel his sense of purpose seeping back in through his pores, his usually high level of self-control making its way into his mind and body once more. But with it came another concerning realization—of just how quickly he had allowed his anger to take a hold of him. And just how lost he had become in it.

It was a sobering thought, one that made his face pale in stricken horror. And his body, almost of its own accord, jerked harshly away from the wheezing, bloody pulp of a man before him, his eyes catching first Rummy's nod toward Boxer and then Boxer's immediate, unquestioning acquiescence as he swiftly crouched in front of the low level gangster.

Boxer's voice was eerily calm as he posed, "Now we can keep doin' this the hard way, and let Conlon have another few go's, but I ain't sure you'd come out breathin' if we do." Boxer paused, his gaze hardening as he said,"So for the sake of you makin it outta here alive, let's try answerin some simple questions ok? First off—where the fuck did you bring the girl?"

But the man's eyes looked beyond Boxer's face and again alighted upon Spot's tense body as he rasped, "Conlon, listen. There ain't ever been bad blood between you an' me." He paused to emit a shaky cough, specks of blood spattering upon the ground reflectively before he continued. "We ain't ever had quarrel before. It ain't a personal thing."

Spot nearly felt himself come unhinged as he all but lunged at the man, Rummy's sturdy grip tightening once more upon the Brooklyn leader's arms to hold him back as Spot spat, "_It ain't personal_?!" A mirthless laugh emitted from the Brooklyn leader before he seethed, "It became fuckin' personal when your lot trespassed on _my_ territory and kidnapped _my_ girl! And it's gonna get a lot more personal if I have to find someone else to tell me how the fuck to find her!"

"From what I've heard, you ain't no killer, Conlon," the man said with a sneer as he turned his head to the side to cough.

But Spot's eyes only bore even more coldly into the man's swollen gaze as he harshly responded, "Well, there's a first time for everything."

The man shrank back in what looked to be fear at the promise in Spot's tone, before he spat upon the dirt floor once more and grated out, "Lookin' at ya now, I wouldn't bet against it." Spot scoffed at the man's quick concession, but the man only shook his head as he continued, "Even if you did, though, ain't no one else is gonna tell you anythin' about your whore."

It was Boxer's turn to land a solid fist into his gut, the Fiore goon coughing furiously in response before cowering even further against the wall and gasping, "Alright, shit, your fuckin' _girl_. No one's gonna say nothin' bout her, Conlon. 'Cause the one who's got 'er—he's got backin' that you can't even begin to fight against."

Spot aggressively shrugged off Rummy's hand, taking a step nearer to the man as he clenched his fists at his side and hissed, "I got backin' from every borough in New York on this, you piece of shit."

And shockingly, the man's bruised and bloodied face upturned into a lopsided smile, a chuckle emitting from within him before he whispered, "It ain't about numbers, Conlon. This fella…..well, he's got somethin you ain't ever had." He paused spitting out another large wad of what looked to be blood before saying, "Money and status. An' you an' I both know that speaks volumes over manpower."

But before Spot could even think to demand more from him, the man's eyes blinked heavily several times, a multitude of gritty coughs bubbling up from his throat. And then he laxed back into the wall, clearly unconscious.

Spot stared momentarily at the man's slumped, still form, quickly surveying the damage that had been done. The man's face was covered in bruises and blood, his body splattered with more of the same. And upon staring down at his own form, his knuckles cracked and raw and his clothes filthy, he sighed. What a fucking, pointless mess.

_You should have finished him for what he did to me. _

Spot's breath hitched in his chest at the sudden intrusion of the voice. Her voice. He felt nauseated, his head spinning in uncontrolled panic. And when a hand grasped his shoulder in concern, all he could do was shrug it off and stumble towards the exit, desperately in need of some fresh air.

"It's not her," he muttered to himself as the cold breeze from the nearby water hit his face harshly.

_I'm the only thing about her that you have left. And you know it. _

"Fuck!" he hurled loudly into the night, slamming his fist into the metal siding of the warehouse. His breath was coming in gasps, his mind racing with anger and despair as he aggressively pushed his hair out of his face. He was losing it—coming completely unhinged and it had to stop. He had to regain control of his quickly crumbling sanity—had to come up with some new ideas of how to find her. He had to fucking do something.

"This ain't a dead end, boss. I promise ya. It's just the first step."

Spot spun around at the sound of his second in command's voice, meeting Rummy's dark, worried gaze with a shake of his head. And after several quiet moments had passed between the two, Spot opened his mouth and surprised even himself by suddenly stating, "I need to step down from Brooklyn. As soon as possible."

The silence that filled the space between the two men was eerily vacant, as if the words Spot had uttered had sucked the very life out of the scene surrounding them. Truthfully, the idea of stepping down had been on his mind for a multitude of weeks. He had barely been managing all of his dock responsibilities on top of his tireless efforts to locate Kate, and unfortunately things had started to slip through the cracks. A lot of things.

Rummy's eyes were shockingly unreadable when he stared silently at Spot, only causing the Brooklyn leader to add intently, "I've been past my due date here for a long time, Rummy. You know it's true."

Rummy remained still, his eyes seeming to absorb every miniscule characteristic of Spot's tense face and chaotic gaze. But the continued quiet only heightened Spot's building anxiety, as he couldn't help but say, "I haven't been at my best in months. Ever since I made foreman at the docks, really. An' the boys—they deserve better than that—than this." He looked up, meeting Rummy's somber stare before continuing, "I have to step down."

"Alright," Rummy replied after several more moments of silence slowly adding, "You're steppin' down to keep lookin' for Kate without lettin' Brooklyn down, an' I can respect that. But I ain't about to let my best friend go out there alone and get 'imself killed. So," Rummy shrugged slightly as he said, "I guess I'm steppin' down with ya."

Spot stared emotionally toward Rummy for a quiet moment, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before he murmured, "Ya think I'd get myself killed?"

Rummy only smiled in response, shaking his head and saying, "Nah. Not when you've got me."

However, there was only a short pause of meaningful silence shared between the two before both Rummy and Spot jerked their attention to the darkened pathway several feet away, a combination of erratic steps and huffing breaths suddenly coming closer toward them.

"Spot! There you are! I been lookin' for you for the last hour!"

Spot couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips at the unmistakable sound of Skip's voice as the small boy animatedly ambled toward them.

"Dammit, Skip," Spot hissed, watching as the bright eyed youngster came to stand in front of him. "What the hell are you doin' here? It's gotta be past three in the mornin'!"

But the boy only fidgeted, seeming to completely ignore Spot's scolding tone as he said, "I jus' got back from 'Hattan an' I had to come find ya straight away 'cause I—"

"_You were in Manhattan until just now_?!"

Spot and Rummy looked at each other in momentary shock, surprised by the yell that had emitted from both of them simultaneously. Skip, however, remained undaunted as he shook his head and continued, "But—but—I got somethin' important ta say, I do, I just—"

"Skip," Spot said through clenched teeth, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throttle the life outa you right now?"

But before Skip could again stumble through another enigmatic excuse, Rummy jumped in to mediate the confrontation, quickly saying, "Look, it's late, Conlon an' you got work at the docks in a few hours. Why don't ya take the kid back to the lodging house an' make sure he's squared away until sellin' starts. Then send another couple a guys over here to relieve Boxer an' me, huh?"

Spot felt a heaviness slowly seep within his body as he finally shrugged, rolling his eyes and grasping Skip by the sleeve of his shirt. His blue gaze wearily met Rummy's while he nodded in affirmation, muttering, "Yeah, alright."

Rummy offered a small smile before adding, "Maybe let Mary take a look at your hand there 'fore you go off to work—it's already gettin' pretty swollen."

At that Spot scowled, growling, "It's fine. 'Sides y'know I ain't speakin' to Mary right now anyway."

Rummy emitted a frustrated sigh in response as he mumbled, "_You_ know she only said that shit the other day 'cause she's worried about ya, Conlon. Give 'er a break. She's on _your_ side, an' really, you probably shouldn't a'—"

But Spot curtly spun on his heel with Skip securely in his grasp and began to stomp away from the warehouse, utterly uninterested in hearing anymore from his second in command. Skip, however, seemed wholly unattuned to Spot's present mood as he began to ramble, "Oy, Spot, I really gotta tell ya what I saw down in 'Hattan."

Spot shot a tempered glance down at the small, dimpled boy before he finally sighed and said, "You have until we reach the lodging house, kid."

Skip nodded solemnly, then energetically continued, "So it started when I was playin' marbles with Recks and Tiny, ya know them 'Hattan kids. We was playing' near Angel's old house, an I was winnin'. But then Recks stole my marble…"

A throbbing started to pulsate within Spot's head as he almost instantly regretted allowing Skip free reign to speak his mind. And as Skip's speech meandered into topic after unrelated topic, Spot found his own brain starting to wander, absently at first, but, much to Spot's chagrin, eventually settling upon the uncomfortable memory of Spot and Mary's conversation nearly four days ago. He grimaced as her scolding voice rang in his ears, detailing his most recent—though admittedly misguided and foolish—attempt to locate Kate.

"Thomas, have you lost all your good sense?"

Mary had been standing with her hands on her hips in the living area of the apartment when Spot had walked through the threshold sometime in the late evening. He had scowled at the short, older woman, unsure of what new issue she had found to confront him about, but nevertheless wholly uninterested in the lecture she had seemed hell-bent on giving him.

"What are you goin' on about, Mary?" Spot had sighed as he had hung his coat upon the rack by the door, pushing his hands through his hair, fatigued and overdone.

"You know damn-well what I'm on about. Going to try and accost Katherine's mother, Effie, in Manhattan? Are you out of your mind?!"

Spot remembered his head immediately snapping back to Mary's form, surprise shining in his eyes. For not three hours prior had the very event to which she was referring taken place. This had of course occurred after multiple days of poor reports from Rummy on the sniveling Fiore goon that Spot had initially been banned from seeing. So, in lieu of any other ideas, he had indeed trekked from the Brooklyn Lodging House all of the way to Manhattan. In a moment of utter desperation he had allowed his emotions to completely reign over his movements and he had sought out answers from the one person that Kate had been absolutely sure was involved in all of this. But he had done so secretly, making sure to cover his tracks from Rummy and whoever else might have been watching. He had, however, never once suspected that Mary would have been onto his scheme. So, in a state of complete confoundment he had not been able to stop himself from stuttering, "How did you—when did you—"

But Mary had been quick to interject, "I had you tailed, Thomas! With the deranged way you've been acting around here—muttering to yourself and pacing to and fro at all hours of the night and day, I knew you were up to even more madness when you said you had an errand to run earlier today. And Tops confirmed it all for me just half an hour ago."

Spot had widened his gaze in further shock—making a short mental note to confront Tops about the clear breach in procedure later—before a steady stream of anger had flooded his body and he had indignantly posited, "No stone left unturned, Mary! Dammit!" The older woman had shaken her head at him, crossing her arms over her chest as he had continued, "And if ya ask me, that woman's hidin' somethin'. I can just tell. So what's the harm in makin' her say it out loud?"

"By attempting to corner her in an alleyway, Thomas?!" Mary had all but bellowed at him, throwing her hands into the air in complete exasperation. "You're lucky you didn't get the chance to go through with it! She could have screamed—called the police on you. And how can you help Katherine if you are locked away in jail cell for the next year? Did you even think of that?" She had paused, her sharp green eyes searching his face for the answer before she had sighed heavily and muttered, "No, of course not. Because you _aren't_ thinking. She's alone somewhere, scared out of her mind no doubt, and carrying _your_ child to boot! And here you are, running around like a madman trying to secure a permanent residence behind bars."

At that comment, however, Spot had felt his face draw to an eerily muted mask as he had quietly said, "I never said anything about her bein' pregnant—to you or anyone else here save Rummy. So how in the hell do you know that? Did _she_ tell you?"

Mary's eyes had appeared conflicted as she had paused for several moments before slowly answering, "I was a midwife for 30 years, Thomas—I knew before she did." She had looked to him, her face unreadable as she had added quietly, "Truthfully, I was the one who insisted she speak to you before she made up her mind about it one way or the other."

Spot had been utterly dumbfounded in the minutes following Mary's admission, so much so that he had stood in the entryway with his mouth agape and his eyes wide while he had attempted to process all of what had been said. Mary had even come closer to him and put a hand on his arm, her eyes radiating a mixture of worry and compassion. Spot, however, had slowly been sinking into the one emotion he had been able to stomach in that moment—irrational anger.

He had yanked his arm away from Mary's grasp, glaring at the woman as he had hissed, "You knew _before _she told me and you kept it to yourself?"

Mary's eyes had been clear, her voice strong as she had responded, "I don't meddle, Thomas. You know this about me. And she had assured me that she would speak to you—so all there was left for me to do was wait until she had."

But Spot had been uninterested in her rational explanation, and in a moment of overwhelming angst had spat, "You know damn well you should have told me, Mary! There's no excuse. I can't believe you!"

Spot had stomped past the old woman in a fit of rage, not even looking toward her as she had quickly said, "Thomas, don't delude yourself into thinking that you could have saved her if you had known sooner. You're wasting precious energy on anger when you should be focusing on things we can do to save her _now_."

A new feeling of regret filled Spot's gut as he shook his head to clear the fog of the memory, Mary's concerned green gaze fading slowly away with it. He knew Mary was right—had known she was right even in the heat of that rage-filled moment. But the pain of Kate's absence had been greater. And the damned cruel echo of Kate's voice had been louder.

It had been so loud, in fact, that on the very trek he had made into Manhattan four days prior, he had been unable to even move, let alone speak to Effie Moore as she had passed his hiding place nearby the family store he knew so well. So, he had stood there, frozen against the brick wall of the neighboring building, watching the dark-haired woman march by with Kate's blonde younger sisters in tow.

And he had trembled in utter despair at the sight of all of them, happily living their lives as if Kate had never existed in the first place.

"...Angel stopped us fighting and yelled at us, 'cept she wasn't really yelling, not like the lady who yelled at her husband across the way 'cause he called her a horror—I ain't never seen a lady so mad, really. But then Recks said sorry, but he never gave me my marble…"

Spot looked down at Skip and suddenly realized that the boy was still chaotically rambling about some long ago incident of seemingly little importance. He sighed, resigning himself to half listening to the random musings flowing freely from Skip's mouth. Eventually the kid would have to get to his point…or at least Spot hoped that would be the case.

"...an' then I told Recks I hadta keep goin' the other way 'cause that's the way the man in the cape went, an' I thought he'd a' gone to Queens but he surprised me an' so I kept followin'—"

"Skip," Spot cut in sternly as the two neared the steps of the lodging house, "Time's up, kid. I need you to go on up and get a few hours sleep before you have to sell tomorrow, alright?"

Skip's pout was visible even in the dimness of the night when he whined, "Aw, c'mon, Spot. I was just gettin' to the good part!"

But Spot only shook his head in response, a finality in his tone as he said, "Not right now. You need to go on up."

Skip shot one more look of displeasure in Spot's direction before sighing dramatically and heading up the lodging house stairs and into the house. And after a short conversation with his oldest bird, Wren, about sending some relief to Rummy and Boxer straight away, Spot lit a cigarette and slowly started meandering toward his work place at the docks. It was only an hour or so before he had to be there anyway, and the waters gentle lapping sounds always had a way of making him feel more at ease about things.

As he walked, he found his thoughts once again wandering, but this time to Skip, his other boys, and, of course, Kate. She had always had a softer touch with Skip-really all of the boys for that matter. Her ability to be compassionate while still getting to the crux of the issue at hand was something that Spot had often marveled at. There had been many a time where Skip and a number of other boys had run past the Brooklyn leader to seek Kate's advice. And she had always caught Spot's eye in these moments, playfully sticking her tongue out or winking in jest at the clear preference for her the boys weren't even trying to hide.

Spot felt a sad smile grow on his lips at the thought of Kate's mischievous teasing. He missed her ability to make him laugh. Truthfully, she was one of the few people that actually could. And almost of their own accord, his thoughts began to wander back to one of the first times that she had managed to secure a gut-wrenching, soulful laugh from him.

He remembered how her eyes had been bright with happiness and her mouth had been turned up into that sly grin-the one she always wore when she knew she was getting to him. God that grin was everything. It was the type of smile that radiated throughout her whole body. And before he had been able to even think to stave off it's impending take over, he too had been easily pulled into the feeling of it. Maybe it had been a joke, or a funny story that Kate had regaled him with, but the serious look he had tried to maintain had just as quickly broken into a half smile, a deep chuckle emitting from his lips. And before he knew it they both had stopped their friendly trek near a semi-empty side street, holding their sides and gasping for much needed air through the peals of laughter.

"Everyday is a new opportunity for me to embarrass myself, I guess," she had muttered with a wry smile once their laughter had died down somewhat.

He remembered shaking his head at her in amusement, leaning sideways against the brick building beside them to begin rolling and lighting a cigarette before saying offhandedly, "Well you seem to take it all in good stride."

"Most days," she had responded after a moment's pause, the slight solemness in her tone causing him to raise his eyes back to hers as he had taken a puff off of his cigarette.

Most wouldn't have noticed the quick catch in her voice as she had spoken the short phrase to him. But Spot had never been most people. He had remained silent for several moments, attempting to interpret the sudden mood shift that had just played out within Kate, taking in her somewhat avoidant gaze and slightly tense body only a few feet away from his own.

He took another slow drag off of his smoke before he nodded toward her and posed, "I didn't take you for the type of girl who gives a shit about what other people think of you."

Her eyebrows had raised in mild surprise before she had quickly shot back, "Coming from a man who's more than likely never had his comings and goings monitored and judged by the whole of society around him."

It was Spot's turn to look surprised as her incisive comment had begun to register forcefully within him, and he had maintained this feeling of shock as he had heard her continue, "I guess I don't have the luxury to never give a shit about what other people think. But I do try to maintain a certain distance from it, yes. There is a difference though."

"Do you care what I think?"

The question had left Spot's mouth before he had even registered that he had wanted to ask it. And in its wake he had felt slight anxiety fill him, somewhat unnerved by her silence, but also unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer.

"Yes," she had finally responded, a smirk slowly forming on her face, "But I care more about making you laugh. And that, Spot Conlon, has me in a bit of a fix because the more silly things I tell you, the more you'll lose respect for me."

And he had found himself smiling too as he had quickly stated, "Actually it's done quite the opposite of what you think."

She had chuckled at him as he had blown smoke to the side, taking another puff of his cigarette as she had said, "Good. Because I like hearing your laugh. It's a nice one."

A hazy gray sheen slowly began to seep throughout the star-studded sky above him as he sat atop a crate by his work station and again shook himself from the memory. It was, of course, only a distant echo of a time long gone-a time where he had had far less awareness of just how close he had been to real happiness.

"You're here early again, eh, Conlon? I'm startin' ta think you don't ever leave."

Spot took a deep inhale off of his smoke before turning to see his boss, Michael McCallum, staring good-naturedly in his direction. He nodded toward the dark-haired, mustached man, offering a small smile as he stood and said, "I sleep sometimes too."

At that, McCallum chortled softly, moving to pat Spot on the back before turning to unlock the office for the day. "I like your spirit, Conlon. You seem to not let this cruel world get to ya so much."

Spot felt a frown form on his lips as he turned away from the bumbling man, taking one last puff of his cigarette and then throwing the remains off into the river.

"Most days," he murmured to himself, a pang of anguish reverberating hollowly within his chest. "Only most days."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Spot felt his mind drifting ever so slightly as the clock in Mary's living room donged nine-o-clock in the evening. His eyes passed quickly around the dining room table where he and several others sat. Rummy to his left, matter-of-factly explaining the details of Spot's decision to both Boxer and Tops who sat across from them. Boxer's eyes were wide as he shook his head with dismay, and Tops sat quietly in wait for Rummy to finish his thoughts.

Spot's mind should have been on the discussion taking place in the apartment's dining area. Hell, he should be the one explaining everything to Boxer and Tops. But his heart was heavy and his thoughts were elsewhere—in a distant time and place with a pretty green-eyed girl, who in this particular past moment of time, happened to be glaring furiously in his direction.

For as long as he had known her, Kate had always had the potential for a rather ferocious temper. And in all their time together, he hadn't often been the impetus for it's flare up. Truthfully, he could count on one hand the times that she had actually been livid with him—most of which had taken place during her recent stay at the Brooklyn Lodging House. But there had been one time in particular where she had been angrier than she had ever been with him, and lately this instance had been haunting his thoughts. So much so, that the images and words swirled about his insides until he began to feel that he was actually there again, reliving it.

It had been after the first several months of their habitual meetups in Manhattan when Spot had unknowingly hit a very raw nerve with Kate. They had been planning on a short outing together and she had told him to meet her outside of an apartment complex and wait for her to complete her last delivery of the day, but he had been early. And that's when all hell had broken loose.

He remembered sauntering up to a spot across the street from the location she had specified, leaning against the brick of the building as he had nodded to several passersby. He remembered being in a good mood, temperedly excited about spending a few hours with Kate at a nearby bookshop. But just as he had scratched a match across the wall next to him to light the stub of a cigarette that had hung from his lips, he had seen something that had made his blood run hot with anger.

Kate had suddenly tripped out of a side entrance across the way, her hands held up in surrender as she had slowly been backed against the apartment complex's outer wall by a lanky looking man much taller and brawnier than she. But when the man had grasped her arms and pinned her against the structure, Spot hadn't even thought twice before dropping the match, pocketing the cigarette and rushing to break up the altercation.

He hadn't been sure what he had been interrupting but all signs had been pointed to foul play as he had heard Kate mutter, "Please, Eddy—I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression—I'm—I'm just here to make a delivery—I didn't think—"

"You sure didn't," the man, Eddy, had growled in response, leaning his body suggestively against hers. "You come here every week, flauntin' your wiles and you didn't _think_ I'd finally take ya up on it, did ya?"

Kate's eyes had contracted in fear and disgust as she had stuttered, "That's not—that wasn't my intention—please—"

"Get your fuckin' hands off a' her!" Spot had growled as he had finally come to the scene, yanking the man off of Kate's form and throwing him against the brick overlay of the neighboring building. Eddy had fallen to his knees after his head had collided with the coarse surface, rubbing his hands over his face momentarily before attempting to stand again. But Spot had been quicker, aggressively scooping up the man by his suspenders and slamming him into the wall.

"Spot," Kate had gasped when she had finally registered what had happened. Spot had noted that her eyes had been wide but unreadable as she had watched the Brooklyn leader land immobilizing blows first across the man's face and then deeply into his gut.

"Spot!" she had yelled as he had struck the floundering man again, her hand tightly grasping his arm to pull him back even as he had struggled against her. But he had easily shaken her off as he had landed one final kick to the fallen man's gut, crouching to meet his eye line before saying, "Touch her like that again, and next time I'll make sure you ain't walkin'."

Eddy had only grunted in response, trembling and holding his sore gut as Spot had slowly stood. He had run a hand through his hair, picking up his fallen cap from the ground as his brain had seemed to click back into logical awareness again. For a moment he had marveled at the instant violence that had surged forth from him without warning. The look of panic on Kate's face had stirred a surprisingly swift and severe reaction from Spot—a reaction that had, before that day, been reserved only for his boys, his close friends, and Mary. The fact that it had been so quickly instigated by the strange green-eyed girl he had only known for a few months had been a wholly confusing and concerning idea to him. But Eddy's groan of pain had brought Spot back to the scene at hand. And so he had spit upon the foul man on the ground, meeting Kate's concerned gaze before firmly grasping her arm and pulling her out of the alleyway.

His pace had been quick, his grip on Kate's arm unyielding as he had walked a multitude of blocks to put space between them and the disgusting man he had all but assaulted several moments before. But Kate had only remained dumbfounded for a few minutes before she had stood her ground, yanking against his hold and saying, "Spot! Slow down!"

He had abruptly stopped between two sparsely inhabited shops, unsure of where exactly he had been planning on dragging Kate to anyway. His only concern had been making sure it was as far as possible from the seedy apartment building where she had been cornered. In his mind at the time, he had been so sure that he had saved her from unknown, but very real danger. Thus he had been expecting her thanks, her emotional upheaval, or even her stunned silence. Anything but the irritable anger she had thrown in his face instead.

"What were you thinking, Spot? What is wrong with you?" she had accused, her eyes narrowing and her mouth forming into a tight line.

He had at first been too shocked to respond, completely befuddled by the fact that she had stood there glaring daggers at him. But after several moment's pause, he had irritably demanded, "What do you mean what's wrong with me? I just saved your skin, so I'm pretty sure a 'thanks' is in order here."

She had scoffed as she had backed further away from him, hissing, "I was handling myself just fine before you stepped in and basically beat him lame. Now next week when I have to go back there, there's going to be hell to pay. So thanks a lot."

Spot had stared incredulously at her as he had asked, "Wait—you're going back there again?"

She had widened her eyes, tucking a loose hair behind her ear before she had assuredly said, "Of course I'm going back. I deliver Mr. Bello's groceries there every week. He's one of our best customers."

Spot had felt as if his head might explode in the face of her clear ambivalence. He had stared at her, completely confounded as he had challenged, "So when he accosts you again next week and I ain't there to save you, what the hell do you think you're gonna do?"

She had glared fiercely at him as several tense moments had passed between them, seeming almost hesitant to respond to his challenge before she had said lowly, "I don't need you to save me, Spot."

"That don't answer my question, doll," Spot had shot back, a satisfied smirk growing on his lips when she had remained silent for several moments more.

But finally, Kate had sighed, wholly flustered as she had said, "I'll defend myself. And if that doesn't work out, then I'll do what I always do—give him just enough so that he'll let me go."

If her sudden anger had surprised him before, it was nothing compared to the absolute bewilderment he had felt at her newest admission. He had stared at her wide-eyed as several minutes had passed in silence, unable to process the disturbing truth she had so matter-of-factly laid out in front of him. And just as the magnitude of what she had imparted began to truly fill Spot, Kate had quickly averted her eyes from his and added, "It's not that big of a deal, Spot."

But all he had managed to stutter out in response was, "Wait, you—you've given into him—before?"

She had sighed, brushing another stray curl out of her face while actively avoiding his gaze and saying, "I mean, not necessarily Eddy, but…." she had trailed off. And in her silence a clear picture had begun to form in Spot's mind even without her definitive words to describe it. She had cleared her throat uncomfortably before saying somewhat louder, "It's just sometimes easier than fighting them off is all. And once they get what they want, they leave me be for a while."

He had stared at her with a mixture of concern and confusion, saying, "Well what about tellin' someone—like your folks? All you'd have to do is tell them about this and they'd put an end to—"

But she had quickly and angrily interrupted, "I'm not telling my parents anything about this. They have enough to worry about. And honestly, I don't really see how this is any of your concern either, Spot."

At the time, he had also been confused by his sudden need to make her plight his concern. Normally, when faced with the level of disdain that Kate hadn't even been trying to hide, he would have turned on his heel and thought nothing more about her, or her predicament. But instead, he had thrown his hands up, frustratedly demanding, "So, you'll just keep lettin' this happen—keep tradin' yourself in like some two bit whore?"

Her eyes had turned steely as she had stated, "I'm not a whore, Spot. And I'm certainly more dignified than the tramps I see hanging on your arm all the time. Do you call them whores too?"

He had taken a step back from her, suddenly noticing that they had moved further away from the street as their conversation had become more and more heated, the shadow of the alley seeming to allow them both a small reprieve from the other's increasing venom.

Her comment had angered him, the distaste for his own activities obvious in both her voice and her stance. But he had chosen to pay no heedance to her dig, allowing a cruel smirk to grow on his lips as he had uttered coldly, "You know what? You're worse than a whore. You don't even get _paid_ for fuckin' the random dirtbags around here."

And within the same breath she had closed the distance between them and slapped him hard across the face, warning him in no uncertain terms that she never wanted to see him again. He too had been so infuriated—so disillusioned by her admissions that he hadn't even turned toward her as she had stormed away.

Truthfully, he _had_ tried his hardest to avoid her after what had transpired—to ignore the pang of regret reverberating in his chest at the scene he had happened upon and the words that had been exchanged between him and Kate in turn. He had wanted to never speak to her again, to finally move past the strange hold he had noticed she was beginning to have on him and just forget all about her. She had told him to do as much after what he had said anyway. His words had been harsh—too harsh—maybe even needlessly cruel and spat out of anger. And he had known that he had taken it too far, hurling sentiments that he hadn't meant. But he had walked away just the same, head held high and ego inflated. Because Spot Conlon didn't apologize. Even if he was wrong.

At least he never had before.

But despite his best efforts, he hadn't been able to shake her off so easily. His guilt had only grown more powerful as the days had passed. And for some reason, he had still felt a need to see her—to talk things through and ease some of the raw anger that had harshly sparked between them. He had been irritated by this pull, but also surprised. And he was almost certain that it had been this small feeling of awe that had altered his original plans. He had found himself calmer and finally settled upon the fact that he had needed to offer Kate some kind of olive branch. That he had needed to make things right. Thus, three days following their quarrel of sorts, he had made the trek into Manhattan in the hopes of doing just that.

He remembered that she had been sweeping the sidewalk in front of her parents' shop when he had carefully approached her on that cold, rainy day. Her hair had been a mess—wild dark curls sticking damply to her pale neck and forehead while her hands had gripped the wooden handle of the broom immovably—all telling signs that he should have stayed far away from the clear impending explosion.

But he had still moved toward her anyway.

He remembered how she had huffed as he had come to stand in front of her, her eyes flashing up toward him in warning—bright and uninhibited.

Those eyes—those beautiful, bewitching eyes. The green orbs that had haunted his thoughts since they had first shone in happiness toward him in that small Manhattan park. He hadn't even had the smallest inkling of what she had already meant to him at that point, but looking back, it had been so readily apparent.

"Can we talk, Kate?" he had asked quietly, maintaining his steady stance even after she had scoffed in anger.

"I think you've said enough," she had stated harshly, wiping her hair out of her eyes as she had turned to march back inside.

But he had caught her arm gently before she could go, turning her slowly to face him and murmuring an even, "I'm sorry." as her eyes had narrowed and her mouth had opened to hurl another snarky comment in his direction.

His quick apology had seemed to leave her somewhat dumbfounded. She had closed her mouth and stared at him for several moments, studying his face for the truth she was unsure that his words had contained.

He remembered offering her a short, genuine smile, before once again murmuring, "Can we go somewhere and talk?"

Her eyes had stared blankly into his for several more silent seconds until she had haltingly nodded, placing her broom against the doorway and following him to a nearby alley.

"Hey, Spot? You alright?"

Spot shook his head, suddenly blinking back into focus to see that Boxer, Tops, and Rummy were all facing towards him, staring expectantly.

"Yeah," he mumbled a little hoarsely, running a hand over his face to refocus himself.

"I was just sayin'," Boxer started, putting his elbows on the table and opening his hands toward Spot before intently meeting his gaze, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Spot nodded curtly as he said, "It's the way it's gotta be."

And with that as a final confirmation, the conversation quickly turned to the logistics of the announcement and the change that would follow, Boxer somewhat reluctantly agreeing to take over for Spot with Tops acting as his second. But Spot still remained unable to focus on the conversation for long, his thoughts again naturally flowing to the memory of Kate, and her surprisingly swift forgiveness of his actions so long ago.

He had, of course, apologized for his poor behavior, and somehow they had quickly and easily fallen back into a routine, as if the conversation hadn't even happened in the first place. Kate had seemed reluctant to give further insight into her predicament at the time, and Spot had been unsure of how to breach the complicated and somewhat disturbing subject with her. But, in a much more selfish sense, he had avoided the topic at all costs to ensure that her companionship with him had continued.

There had been a point during her stay in Brooklyn where he had gently inquired into that part of her life once more, curious as to the impetus behind her actions and the secretive behavior with her parents in turn. But she had offered very limited insight, seeming immediately uncomfortable with the topic at hand.

She had frowned, her eyes avoiding his as she had murmured, "I guess at the time, I was willing to do whatever it took to maintain my freedom, even if that meant having to deal with a little trouble here or there on the streets."

He had known that any talk even remotely having to do with her past—more specifically her parents' role in it—would cause her to immediately clam up into silence. But even with her halting explanations of what life had been like inside the Moore household, Spot had still been able to glean a pretty clear picture.

An intermittently hysterical mother with something to hide. A distant and enabling father as her mother's sole caretaker, and two much younger sisters whose raising had almost exclusively fallen to Kate. Kate's one escape had been her delivery work, and Spot imagined that, even with the very serious pitfalls that she had been forced to deal with on the street, it had still offered her some respite from the emotional turmoil of her home. And perhaps the pain and absence caused by her family's dysfunction would have eventually been a forgivable circumstance if her mother had not also abandoned her eldest daughter to suffer at the hands of some mysterious blackmailer. A man who, after leaving Kate for dead the first time, had for some reason put a hefty price on having the girl brought back to him alive.

The girl that Spot, despite his feigned diffidence, had fallen for within a few months of knowing her. The girl that had finally become his.

But upon seeing Boxer, Tops, and Rummy push back from the table, Spot forced himself to concentrate on the present moment, hearing Boxer finish saying, "...no problem keepin' the boys in line."

All four of the group walked toward Mary's front door slowly, a thoughtful silence falling over them for several moments before Boxer stuck his hand out and said, "These are big shoes ta fill. I'm honored ya thought of me."

Spot offered a genuine smile in return as he grasped his peer's outstretched hand and said, "I'm leaving Brooklyn in capable hands."

"You know, Spot," Boxer said after he had clapped Rummy on the back genially and opened the door to exit the apartment. "Brooklyn'll always be behind you. But 'specially until Kate's back here, where she belongs."

Spot's mouth tightened in emotion as his eyes flashed gratefully into Boxer's and he said, "'Til tomorrow afternoon then."

"'Til tomorrow afternoon," Boxer confirmed, he and Tops finally bowing out to go back to the bunkroom for the night.

Rummy paused a moment longer, turning toward Spot before he put a hand on his shoulder and asked, "You gonna be okay?"

Spot stared at the retreating forms of Boxer and Tops across the hall as he muttered, "Not until I have her back."

The next day started just like any other day—Mary eyeing Spot worriedly as he silently readied himself for his early morning shift, and then work on the docks until mid-afternoon. He handled his duties with quiet diligence, his crew at the docks seeming to read his need for extra space.

He had been appointed to head a good, steady crew of men since taking over as foreman. He had easily garnered their respect, though he had been somewhat younger than a large portion of his workers, and they had all quickly fallen into a dependable work rhythm together. And though the last month had left Spot more subdued than usual, his men had continued on as though nothing had changed. He had appreciated their consistency of course, but it had also acted as a clear example of just how different his relationship was with his dock workers and the newsboys he had led for so many years.

Which was why the day was so far from any normal day he had ever had before.

He knew it was the right thing to do. He had known for over a year that his time as a newsie had long been coming to an end. But even though he had repeated these sentiments to himself over and over again for the last few weeks, there still was a pang of emptiness in his stomach as he stood before his boys on that early evening and made the announcement that he was stepping down.

He assured them that Boxer was the right choice as a replacement and that he was leaving them in completely capable hands. He would remain living in Mary's apartment after all, so he would not be too far removed from them, but from now on, Boxer should be there go-to on anything they needed to discuss.

His boys' faces had reflected a bundle of mixed emotions-some sadness, some confusion, and even some dejection. But he had genially called Boxer up to speak, shaking his hand as a final cementation of the news he had just relayed.

And wanting to give Boxer some space so that he could settle the boys into this new reality they would be living with, Spot had bowed out of the common room, sitting somewhat tiredly upon the porch steps before lighting a cigarette.

He distractedly blew out the smoke, suddenly feeling the step give somewhat next to him. He turned to see Skip standing next to him, a look of worry in the young boy's gaze.

"Hey, kid," Spot said with a soft smile, taking another puff of his cigarette as Skip sat down beside him.

"Ya hadta step down?" Skip asked, his eyes squinting against the setting sun coming just upon the horizon next to them.

"Yeah," Spot responded slowly as he nodded.

Skip sighed, sitting down next to Spot on the step, asking, "Is it 'cause you gotta find her? You gotta find Angel?"

An echo of hurt reverberated within Spot's chest as Kate's nickname left Skip's mouth. He only managed a halting nod in response, taking a deep inhale from his cigarette and looking away from the small boy, lest he see the raw emotions in his eyes.

"It took me a long time to find the man in the cape this time too. Not like when he had Angel in Queens last year."

It was as if Spot had been slapped harshly across the face, or cold water had been dumped upon his body unexpectedly. The world around him came to a crashing halt as he swiftly turned to the boy next to him and said, almost disbelievingly, "Wait-what did you say?"

Skip shrugged, leaning his arms against his knees, saying, "Well, it was a lot easier followin' the man in the cape afore, when he had Angel holed up in Queens, but then he kinda disappeared for a while. I mean-I seen him and Dims together once, but that was a while back. But I didn't know where else ta look to-"

"Skip," Spot interrupted, feeling his heartbeat quicken slightly with a glimmer of hope, "Have you seen Kate?"

Skip nodded, smiling as he mused, "Sure, lotsa times in this big house in 'Hattan. I saw her just two days ago with the man in the cape, but-"

Spot's eyes widened as he grasped the boy by his shoulders, staring intently at him and saying, "Can you show me where she is? Can you take me to her?"

Skip nodded somewhat hesitantly, seeming confused by Spot's urgent tone, finally answering, "Yeah, a' course."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The trek from Brooklyn to Manhattan had been made hastily and mostly in silence, Skip leading the way while Rummy and Spot followed closely behind. The air had a noticeable chill to it, the wind that whipped around the group stinging Spot's hands and face. He, however, only used the icy stimulation as further fuel to aid in his focus.

After four long weeks he finally had a definitive lead on where to find Kate.

Rummy had, of course, insisted on accompanying Spot on the journey as well. He had quickly noted the now retired Brooklyn leader's sudden exit from the gathering and had joined him and Skip outside just as Spot had been trying to glean more pertinent details from the flighty boy.

And within seconds of understanding the whole of what was at stake, Rummy had immediately agreed, "Alright, Skip, lead the way."

The small boy's choices of direction had been fairly strange considering Spot was almost as well versed with the streets of Manhattan as he was with Brooklyn, but he followed behind Skip regardless. And finally, after a multitude of twists and turns that seemed wholly unnecessary, they found themselves entering into a neighborhood that Spot had only seen from a distance, but had never felt confident in entering.

Large houses lined each street, tall and gated in the dying light of the evening, and Spot felt suddenly unsure of himself as they slowly meandered toward the side of a two story blue house with a high wrought iron gate surrounding the premises.

"This is where I been seein' her," Skip muttered, yanking on Spot's shirt and pointing toward the second floor window above them.

The light of a lamp seemed to be reflecting from within, but Spot saw no figures or shadows nearby.

"Here?" Spot confirmed, somewhat disbelievingly, making eye contact with Rummy's equally unsure gaze.

Several minutes of uncomfortable silence fell over the group as Spot looked around, making sure no coppers were walking by while also hesitantly scoping out these new surroundings.

There was a fear reverberating within him, that he had eagerly allowed Skip to lead him down one of his nonsensical rabbit holes. That he had been desperate enough to believe this small boy had held the answers all along.

But after another yank on his shirt from Skip, Spot looked back up toward the window and all of his doubts vanished.

There stood Katherine Moore, a lacy nightgown clad about her frame, and a ribboned braid in her hair. Spot felt the breath nearly leave his body as he rubbed his eyes to ensure that it was truly she who stood above him.

"Holy shit," he heard Rummy murmur. But before Spot could even formulate a coherent thought, he felt his body, of its own accord begin to take action.

"Spot, wait!"

Spot felt Rummy's hand grasp his shoulder just as he made his way to walk through the wrought iron gate in front of him. Rummy's grip was impassable, his anxious warning causing Spot to suddenly snap back into awareness.

"You go in there now and cause a rucus an' they're sure as shit to call the cops on you. We gotta wait. Make a plan," Rummy murmured.

But all Spot could focus on was the handsome dark-haired man that had suddenly come to stand behind Kate, and the possessive way he gently kissed her neck.

* * *

It was numbness that Kate felt above anything else.

Of course there was still the ache in her abdomen and the sting on her arms, but the heaviness in her chest far outweighed any other sensation in her body. It was the weight of deadness and it silenced every other part of her.

The creak of the door opening behind her sounded, but she didn't even turn her head. Her eyes remained fixed on her hands as she eventually felt the weight of another body come to sit next to her on the bed.

"Katherine."

Her name sounded foreign-as if it were empty and worthless the way he said it. His tone was soft, but she felt the real steeliness hidden within it-cold and unwavering like an unsheathed blade.

"Katherine, when I speak to you I expect you to look at me."

A week ago she would have turned further away. A week ago she would have bucked against his command in some rebellious fashion. But now, it was a week later, and that had unfortunately made all the difference.

He had finally gotten what he had wanted.

So she lifted her head, eyes wide and empty to meet his dark blue gaze. She had thought to herself more than once that he would have been handsome if his eyes had not been so cold. Or his words so exacting and cruel.

"You're a lost little girl-a pitiable creature, do you know that?" he murmured, his eyes squinting in focus as he ran his hand gently down her cheek.

She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat as she felt herself pull mechanically away from his touch.

But he only chuckled at her small movement, placing his hand down next to hers on the bed before he said, "You'd be more pitiable if you weren't so damned contrary. Like a wild animal."

She remained motionless as he stood, pulling a silver cigarette case out of his breast pocket, and lighting a fresh one between his lips. He puffed thoughtfully at the ceiling, pacing a few steps away from her still form.

"You know, if you had stopped fighting me sooner," he paused, turning around to face her as he took another inhale from his cigarette, "this would have never happened, Katherine."

She said nothing in response, her eyes hollowly following his trek back to her as he again sat next to her on the bed. His fingers trailed against the lace of her nightgown upon first her right wrist, then her left wrist.

She did her best to contain the shudder at his touch, but he noticed.

He noticed everything.

His smirk was more alarming than the flash of anger in his cold eyes, and Kate looked warily on at his tense form beside her.

He inhaled another puff of his cigarette, smoke trailing out of his mouth as he finally said, "It doesn't have to be this way, you know. If you stop fighting me, all of this-me, Lawrence, everything-will become so much more agreeable for you here."

And, from somewhere within the depths of her body, Kate found herself nearly choking out the response, "I don't belong here, John. This isn't my home." She paused as she noted his eyes widen in what looked to be amusement before she softly finished, "And it never will be."

His smirk reappeared, causing Kate's stomach to tighten in uncertainty as he replaced the dying ember of his cigarette back within his silver case, turning to her suddenly and asking, "You honestly think your home is in Brooklyn, Katherine? With that Conlon man?"

Kate felt her eyes dip away from his as his chuckle echoed within the small space between them before he posed a harsh, "And why is that?"

And with eyes still downcast, her voice shook with the hint of emotion as she murmured, "Because I love him. And he loves me."

"Mhm," John said, almost disinterestedly.

And suddenly, Kate felt an urge to distance herself from him, from the disbelief and smoke that seemed to nearly choke any original thought or feeling she had within her body. So she stood, crossing her arms securely over her chest and walking toward the window on the far side of the room, looking longingly out into the darkness.

But only a moment passed before he cornered her against the window, his hands resting covetously and rigid upon her hips, his hard chest flush against her back and his breath in her ear as he said, "But how will he feel when he finds out what you did, Katherine?"

And she shuddered at the pain in her chest, the fire of guilt that seared into every inch of her body before she murmured weakly, "He'll never forgive me."

And she could almost feel the smile that John wasn't even trying to hide as his lips grazed against her neck.

* * *

Heyo! Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I'm having horrible writer's block and am kind of worried that interest in this story has gone down. Is anyone still reading this? Are you guys liking this? It really does my soul good to see some reviews so please, if you read, leave me a review. It means a lot.

To those of you that do, thank you! And Cassy1994, I couldn't do this without you. Thank you for ALL your help and support. much love you guys! :-)


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Spot was pacing somewhat manically in front of Bryan Denton's fireplace as he relayed all the necessary details of Kate's plight to those gathered before him. But even without looking at all of them, he could feel the worried stares of Sarah, Jack, David, Rummy, and even Denton himself upon him.

It was David, however, who ventured to speak first.

"Spot," he started gently, "You know we've been friends for a long time—we've been through a lot together." He paused as Spot stopped his movements to flash his harsh blue eyes into David's wide open gaze. And though David appeared somewhat intimidated by Spot's stare, he pushed forward, "I hope you know I'd do anything in my power to help you, but…" he paused, his eyes dropping from Spot's narrowing ones as he finished, "How do you know that she doesn't want to be there? Maybe there was a misunderstanding—maybe she lied to you—"

"There wasn't a fucking misunderstand, David!" Spot spat heatedly. "They took her—against her will—twice! And just because she's sitting pretty in there doesn't mean fucking wants to be."

A tense silence fell over the group as Spot turned away from them, running a hand through his hair and desperately searching his pockets for a smoke. But after several moments, he felt a calm hand on his shoulder and spun to see Denton holding open a case of cigarettes for him to choose from. Spot nodded gratefully as he selected a pre-rolled cigarette and the light that Denton offered in turn.

Denton stepped back a pace and allowed Spot a few puffs from his smoke before he added softly, "We all know you well enough to know that you aren't a liar, Spot, and if you say Katherine isn't one either, then we believe you." Spot offered a short look of appreciation to the middle-aged man before Denton continued, "I think David is just trying to point out that there may be more layers to this situation than you originally realized—that we'll need some more information to clearly understand what's going on. From what I've heard around town, the man she seems to be staying with—Mr. John Cooke—has been in Europe for years. He just moved back to New York City a month ago following his grandfather's death. Or at least that's what he's claiming." Denton paused to sigh and say, "So, right now, according to his story, there's no plausible way that he was the same one that could have taken her a year ago."

But in the wake of Denton's comments, Spot blew out a thick, angry stream of smoke and widened his eyes as he hissed, "And how come none of you are even willing to consider that _he_ may be lying?"

Denton held up his hands to stay some of the raw anger pouring off of Spot before he calmly replied, "It's not that, Spot. You've got to understand—if we are to presume she is being kept there against her will, without proof, there's nothing that we can really do to get her out of there. There are no legal routes to take, and running in there and pulling her out without any substantial cause will only prove to secure you a place behind bars."

Spot looked to each person sitting before him in Denton's somewhat spacious apartment, noting the genuine concern radiating from all of their faces. But feeling a further desperation—a need—for someone to understand him, he turned to Jack and reasoned, "Jack, c'mon. You know her almost as well as I do. Tell them this ain't like her-that where she is, what's happening-it isn't right!"

Jack maintained eye contact with Spot as he muttered worriedly, "Conlon, I agree with you. It ain't like Kate...none of this is and it don't rightly make any sense, but..." he paused, dropping his gaze to his hands. "Without any evidence, you ain't got a leg to stand on. And none of us can go in there and bust her out. We'd sure as hell end up in jail."

Spot could feel his muscles in his neck and face tighten as he growled, "Evidence?! For fuck's sake, evidence? Just ask Kate! Ask her about what happened to her—that's all the fuckin' evidence you'll need!"

The knowing looks shared about the room were enough to make Spot want to punch a hole in the nicely furnished wall behind him. He clenched his jaw as David turned to him and slowly said, "Look, Spot, if Kate is in the danger you say she is, then even _if_ someone could get close enough to speak with her, I dunno that she'd say anything." Spot took an aggressive inhale from his cigarette as David paused, glaring at the curly-headed boy when he added, "This is one of those situations where you have to wait it out. You're a level-headed guy usually. You know in order to do anything against this man—a man with money and power on his side—we need to wait and see the whole picture here."

But Spot took a step forward, panic filling him as he noted everyone else's nod of agreement to David's words. He looked desperately to Jack, then to Denton, David, and Sarah who all stared back toward him with a maddening sense of calm resolve. Even Rummy shot him an imploring look, causing Spot to raise his hands over his head and yell, "_We can't just sit back and wait_! _We need to save her_—_we need to_—_to do something_!"

He met their resolute stares for a multitude of silent moments, breathing heavily as he ran his free hand through his already mussed hair and then brought his half-smoked cigarette to his mouth to drag deeply off of it.

The pervasive quiet in the room was suffocating, the worry in his friends' gazes insufferable. So Spot did the only thing he felt was left for him and huffed angrily, marching to the coat rack by the door with haste, donning his jacket, and then grunting, "Well with friends like these—I guess I'll just have to fuckin' do it myself if you assholes aren't willin' to step up." And he walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

But as he was making his way down the hallway and to the stairs he heard a gentle feminine voice call, "Spot, wait up!"

Spot stopped just short of the stairwell to see Sarah Jacobs come to stand before him. He took a final drag off of his cigarette, crushing the butt against the wooden rail carelessly before flicking it down the stairs. He raised his hands impatiently toward Sarah as she stood silently, staring into his gaze.

"Law school has made my brother more pessimistic than he used to be," Sarah finally said, a wry smile growing softly on her lips.

Spot sighed, running a hand through his hair as he sharply responded, "Hate to break it to you, Jacobs, but your brother was pretty fuckin' pessimistic before now too." She chuckled at his quip, but Spot was far from being comforted by her even tone and light jokes as he said, "Well, if that's all you wanted to say to me, I'll be on my way."

He took another swift step toward the stairs before Sarah quickly said, "There's something else going on with Kate that you haven't told us—isn't there, Spot?"

He immediately stopped his movements and stared at Sarah's solemn face in surprise. Several silent moments passed between them before he gave her a short nod of confirmation.

"Is she pregnant?"

The direct question felt like an immobilizing blow to his gut. He found himself shuddering at the terrifying truth in her words as he again mechanically nodded in response, a queasiness passing through his body in turn.

Sarah looked away thoughtfully before posing, "Well, what do you think John Cooke will do if he figures it out?"

Her pragmatic tone and calm demeanor were throwing Spot somewhat off balance, so much so, that he found himself replying in much the same way as he murmured, "Let's just say if it's anything like what he did to her before, I don't want to wait to find out."

Sarah nodded, quickly asking, "And you're sure this is the same man from before? The one that took her a year ago?"

Spot stared strongly into Sarah's unwavering gaze as he said, "Absolutely."

"And you're sure he's dangerous? That he has ties to the Fiore family and that he was the one that hurt her?"

"Yes," Spot clearly responded. "This has to be the well-dressed man Kate remembers from before. I just don't have any hard proof that I can offer up. Only a few newsie's words to go on. And Kate's."

Sarah shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest as she responded somewhat distractedly, "Kate's not going to talk, Spot. That's not the angle we need to come from."

But Sarah's quick dismissal of his thoughts sent another surge of anger through him as he demanded, "Why the hell wouldn't she?" Sarah maintained eye contact with Spot as he quickly continued, "Listen, you don't know Kate. I know she was with Jack and maybe that's why you're assumin' the worst about her, but she's not a liar and she's not….I don't know…..some hoity toity bitch that'd just up and leave me. She was taken, Sarah. Violently. And she was abused for weeks before we found her the first time a year ago. Now's not the time to hold petty grudges against her."

Sarah's eyes immediately narrowed as she sharply replied, "Well it appears you don't know me as well as you think either, Spot Conlon. All of that mess with Kate and Jack is long in the past. Jack made a lot of mistakes and if Kate was caught in the crossfire of that then I feel even more for her. Not to mention that I would _never_ be as thoughtless as to hold some ridiculous grudge against a girl that's in desperate need of help."

The tension in the air between the two seemed to crackle as they both glared at each other in silence before Sarah finally shook her head and more gently said, "Look, Spot. You need a voice of reason to look at this less emotionally than you are able to right now. Of course Kate won't speak up—you need to see it from her point of view." She sighed as she thoughtfully continued, "If that were me, I'd do whatever it took to keep the man I love and our unborn child out of harm's way. And speaking out is a sure-fire way to get a lot of people hurt—the baby included."

Spot almost felt his mouth drop open at the sheer astuteness in her words, realizing that he had never once considered the reality that Sarah had so easily deduced. But before he could even think to voice his thoughts, Sarah had quickly moved on, saying, "With someone from a family like his—with money and influence—your word against his won't be enough."

Spot waved her comment off irritably as he said, "Yeah, tell me somethin' I don't know, Sarah. That still don't change the fact that she needs to get out of there sooner rather than later."

Sarah sighed, conceding his point with a short nod. And after a quiet minute, she again met his gaze with a sense of purpose in her own as she said, "We need to smoke him out somehow—get him to mess up—to show his true colors."

Spot narrowed his eyes in intrigue, feeling even more impressed by Sarah's continued sharp comments as he asked, "What do you have in mind, Jacobs?"

Sarah's eyes became distant before she said, "We need to do our research. About him. About his family." Her eyes traveled back to his as she stared meaningfully into his gaze and said, "And about Kate's mother. Something isn't right about this whole situation, and Cooke is lying for a reason. So we need to find out what that reason is."

Spot remained silent, noting that Sarah appeared to have more to say. And after a short moment, the brown-haired girl quickly added, "But in the mean-time, while we're looking into this, we need to get him to pull her out of hiding. If she's seen publicly and connected with him then there will be less of a chance for him to act out on her." Sarah nodded to herself, saying, "Once she's made public, he'll have no choice but to bring her out into the open. And then, he'll have to constantly be watching himself."

"How do you suggest we do that?" Spot asked, his eyes searching Sarah's focused face.

She met his gaze resolutely as she said, "Let's go ask Denton how well he knows the people that work in the society section of his paper. I have an idea."

And within the same breath, Sarah spun on her heel and turned to begin walking back to Denton's apartment. But Spot found he could not help but call out to her, as he said, "Sarah, wait."

She stopped abruptly, raising her eyebrows in question before Spot continued, "Why are you so willing to look past all the uncertainty there is and believe me when I say that somethin' isn't right?"

Sarah's eyes were intent as she said, "Because if you say something isn't right, then something isn't right."

Spot sighed, unsatisfied with her answer, but Sarah held up her hand before she continued, "Spot, I can see it on your face. You're terrified. And if something is able to scare Spot Conlon this badly, then we all need to stop and pay attention." She paused, giving him a sad smile, "Besides, it appears that we are all Kate has. She needs us—she's just not able to ask for herself. So thank God she has you."

Spot felt his throat tighten in emotion as he nodded in what he hoped Sarah could see was thanks. But she merely motioned for him to follow her back to the apartment. And so he quickly fell in step behind her back to make a plan with the others.

* * *

AH I can't believe I got another chapter out this fast. Still unsure if anyone is actually reading this, but thank you to 2020 for the sweet reviews. Please let me know what you guys think of this-if you are reading it-if you are liking it. I desperately want some feedback!


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

She hated it here.

From the rich mahogany wood framing every piece of furniture in the house to the decorative chandeliers hanging below the mural painted ceilings, Kate hated all of it. It was stuffy and pretentious-everything looked as if it were too nice to use-too nice to even touch. And the lace curtains that shielded all the windows were like a set of ivory bars, caging her in from anything having to do with the outside world.

She hated the clothes John made her wear too. The stiff corset that John's maid, Addie, put her in every day. The suffocating high-necked, long-sleeved dresses and shirts that were more of the same. Not to mention the colorful array of what the clothes were hiding underneath.

Her earned punishments. The proof that she had tried to fight against it, but also the undeniable confirmation that she had failed.

Living in John's house was like playing a very complicated game of chess, where her opponent was always ten moves ahead of her. It was as if he had long known what her responses to things would be. Like he could almost read her mind.

As these thoughts swirled through her head, Kate stared out of the sitting room window and into the empty street before her. Sunlight streamed in, the lacy curtains refracting patterns upon the furniture and carpet beyond, but Kate felt cold. Cold and empty.

"Katherine."

It was an icy, though calmly spoken order and Kate jolted to the attention that it demanded of her. She silently turned to face John as he stood in the entryway of the living area. She noted how he looked as he always did-impeccably put together. His dark hair was tamed into a fashionable wave across his forehead, his face cleanly shaven, and his clothes tailored and fresh. However, as Kate looked more closely at him she was startled to see a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, his blue eyes more chaotic than cruel.

And then his footman, Lawrence, appeared dauntingly behind him. Kate felt her eyes habitually narrow at the bowler-hatted, middle-aged man, a knowing smirk appearing on his own face in turn.

"Miss Katherine," Lawrence said haughtily in greeting as Kate huffed in response.

"Get the ride ready, Lawrence," John interrupted, irritably waving Lawrence away from him. "You can play cat and mouse with Katherine another day."

Lawrence took one more leering look at Kate before he winked and said, "Looking forward to it."

Kate felt the familiar bile rise in her throat at the thought of spending any more time with Lawrence. Their meetings had been excruciating so far, but after what had happened two weeks ago, John had been sure to distance the two of them. She was hoping it would be for good.

But Kate's attention was quickly diverted back to John once more as he impatiently stated, "I'll be away for the next few days. On business."

She raised her eyebrows, somewhat surprised by his announcement. Since she had been brought to him five weeks ago, he had been in this house, either in his locked office or dealing with her.

His eyes darted around somewhat distractedly as he said, "Addie will be watching over you in my stead."

Kate nodded before John added intently, "I expect you to be on your best behavior with Addie. I have directed her to alert me immediately if you place even one toe out of line. And if I hear from her while I am away," he paused, his eyes bearing into hers with frightening severity, "I'll make sure that you and Lawrence have daily time together to set you straight again."

Kate's face paled at his thinly veiled threat, a tremor running through her body as he smirked cruelly at her. His eyes travelled with a strange lasciviousness from her face all the way down to her feet before he walked swiftly away and exited out of the front door.

It was a look he had given her with regularity ever since she had been brought here. There was a disturbing promise in his gaze, a want for her body that made her even more fearful of him. He hadn't touched her like that, but she could tell that he had wanted to. And not in the way that men usually lusted after women. There was something dark about the way his eyes hungered for her. Like he would get pleasure from hurting her while taking her.

But as Kate felt another tremor wrack her body, she gingerly sat down upon the chair nearest her to steady herself. She had no control, no upper hand in any of this. She was completely at the whim of whatever it was John wanted with her. And from what he had vaguely explained to her, he had every legal right to exercise his judgment in what was best. Her parents had entrusted him as her legal guardian from here on out-to help her-to save her. And even though she had spent weeks demanding that she be released, John had time and again successfully suppressed her rebellion. But two weeks ago he had pushed her too far. And there had been dire consequences.

He had taken so much from her and though he had been distant for the past ten days, he still seemed far from finished. So, in response, she had done the only thing left in her power to do-silently retreat into herself.

Kate hated him. She hated everything having to do with him. But more than hating him, his house, and his right hand man, she had begun to hate herself as well. For fearing him. And for letting him win.

"Miss Katherine?"

The soft voice that interceded Kate's thoughts made her turn sharply to meet Addie's hesitant gaze. "You should get back to resting in bed. The doctor said you shouldn't spend too much time upright for the next few weeks."

Kate closed her eyes against the pain that filled her chest in the face of Addie's reminder. The incident two weeks ago had been swift and horrible and a doctor's care had been an immediate necessity. The medic that had shown up for the call not an hour later had seemed more than happy to take the extra payment that John had offered him for his silence on the matter. But Kate had still seen the disdain-the ruthless disapproval in the doctor's eyes as he had examined her the two times following.

Like she was trash that needed to be thrown out immediately.

But upon hearing Addie's nervous shuffling from the doorway, Kate opened her eyes and nodded, saying, "I'm coming." And she rose from the stiff chair she was perched upon to follow Addie into the hallway.

"Are you hungry, miss?" Addie asked gently, her eyes flashing shortly toward Kate's thin form. Kate only shook her head at the near forty-year old woman in response before shooting her a grateful half-smile and saying, "Thank you for asking but I'm not."

Addie had seemed to be a naturally timid and anxious woman. She could often be seen wringing her hands and darting her eyes about nervously as she performed her chores throughout the house. And these behaviors only seemed to amplify when she was dealing with John. But Addie had been nothing but kind to Kate since the girl had gotten there several weeks before. Distant and hesitant, yes-but still kind.

In a way, Kate had felt that Addie was her only ally in this stiff hell she now found herself in. Especially when the woman had agreed to stamp and deliver her letters to Spot at the nearest post office on her way home from work every week. She had even agreed to use her own apartment as the return address for any potential responses.

Kate had at first felt assured in her trust of Spot Conlon. He was, after all, the man that she loved, the man that had promised to always be there for her. Surely then he would respond to her calls for aid. But as the weeks had gone on, and all ten of her letters had remained unanswered, an inkling of fear and doubt had entered her thoughts.

Addie had assured her that the letters had been sent. She had confirmed the address with the woman seemingly thousands of times. So why hadn't she heard anything from him for weeks?

"You need to eat, miss," Addie muttered gently, breaking into Kate's sobering thoughts. "It's how your body will heal."

Kate's eyes dipped down to the floor as Addie turned to stare meaningfully at her, both women stopping at the entrance to her room. But when Kate remained silent, Addie huffed out an anxious sigh, the woman's hands nervously interlocking while she led Kate into the bedroom and began turning down the bed for her.

"Do you know where John is going?"

Kate's voice was soft as she asserted the query, her eyes hesitantly surveying Addie's face. But Addie only shook her head before offering a forced smile and saying, "He didn't really say, miss. Just that it'd be a few days."

"Does he often go out like this?" Kate further probed, curious if Addie could provide any insight into her strange overseer's behavior.

"Can't be too sure of his habits yet. He took ownership of his grandfather's estate about a year ago, a few months after Mr. Cooke Sr. passed. But he didn't move into the house until just recently." Addie paused as she helped Kate into the bed, seeming hesitant to add anything. But after covering the girl in blankets she said, "The staff felt lucky that Mr. Cooke kept all of us on after his grandfather's passing."

Kate narrowed her eyes in interest, asking, "So you worked for his grandfather first?"

Addie nodded, murmuring, "Mr. Cooke Sr. was a hard man, but fair. Didn't even know he had a grandson until just before his death."

But just as Kate was formulating a new question to pose, Addie dimmed the light in her room and made her way to the door, saying, "It's been a long morning. Why don't you rest for a while?"

Kate settled into the pillow, surprised at how exhausted she already was. But as Addie began to walk out, Kate tiredly asked, "Has there been any response yet?"

And Kate almost thought she heard a tinge of guilt in the woman's voice as she said, "Nothing yet, Miss Katherine."

* * *

So here I am again, updating very quickly. Thanks to Cassy1994 for her mamazing help as always! Thanks to Bea for always reviewing when you can and LoveFiction for sticking with me. You guys are the best.

To all the other readers out there TELL ME WHAT YOU THINKKKKKKK PLEASEEEEE. It means SO much to have ANY feedback. Much love!


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Sarah had been right about everything so far.

The society editorial that Denton's paper had run on John Cooke and his household two weeks prior had been a brilliant though covert call to action. Sarah and Denton had come up with just the right things to leak to the staff writers and the results had been flawless. Within a few days of the article running, Kate had emerged with John nearly every day for an evening walk, and had even been seen meandering for short distances about the neighborhood on her own. All in all, things were definitely moving in a positive direction.

But it wasn't enough for Spot.

"I need to talk to her myself," Spot had stated to Sarah two days before.

He had hopped a trolley to Manhattan to catch Sarah on her way home from work, feeling a pressing need to discuss plans for Kate's rescue. Sarah, unfortunately, had been less than supportive of his ideas.

"When we make contact with her, it needs to be done slowly and carefully, Spot. I'm not sure that what you have in mind here is the right way to do that."

Sarah had stared earnestly at Spot as she spoke, a warning in her eyes. But he had shaken his head irritably, insisting, "I don't know how much longer we can wait. And if I can pinpoint just the right moment, I might be able to—"

Sarah sighed heavily as she turned to face him, looking imploringly into his eyes. "Spot, this situation is delicate. We need to think about what's best for Kate. So, you tell me if showing up in that fancy neighborhood and pulling her aside is really the best option we've got."

Her words had been harsh, and Spot had felt immediately attacked by them. So much so, that he had scowled at her and snapped, "Then what the fuck do you suggest?"

Sarah hadn't even flinched at his caustic tone, her eyes reflecting a mixture of worry and empathy as she had placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "Give me a few more days of digging at the archives. I'm close to something—I can feel it."

Spot's body relaxed somewhat at her evenness. And after clenching his hands at his side to get control of himself, he nodded. "Alright. Two more days. But if you don't have any firm leads by then, I'm going to try to make contact with her."

Sarah sighed once more, nodding then saying, "I can't imagine how horrible this has been—for you and for her. But one wrong step on our part might cause a setback that we won't be able to recover from." Sarah paused, looking meaningfully into Spot's eyes. "Promise me that before you go seek her out, you'll at least let me know."

Spot had hesitated momentarily, unsure of making any commitments that could delay a connection with Kate. But ultimately, he had finally nodded. And after he had accompanied her home—politely declining her invitation to dinner with her family—he had made his way back to Brooklyn. He had been somewhat dejected by Sarah's emphatic addendums. But as soon as the second day had dawned with no further word from her, he had found himself proceeding with his original intentions anyway.

Leaving word with Flit to deliver his quickly scrawled note to Sarah, he had headed to the docks to get his crew squared away so that he could then make his way to Manhattan by the early evening. The two extra days Sarah had all but demanded from him had only created a further— and detailed—cementation of his plan.

The main crux of which was getting Kate away from that house.

He had spent quite a bit of time considering what it was exactly that had kept Kate from escaping. The most likely reason he could deduce was that she was too frightened to even attempt it. He was sure that John Cooke must be nothing short of a monster. So maybe all she needed was a reminder that she was not alone. That Spot stood solidly with her in whatever horrendous situation she was now faced with. If she just saw him then perhaps, she would also feel strong enough to take his hand and walk away, trusting that he would protect her.

In his head, it was an unshakeable plan. There had been no other options and no alternative outcomes.

Thus, upon completing his shift at the docks, he had wrapped his coat tightly about him, pulling his hat low over his brow and made the journey to the small alcove of expensive looking houses that Kate now resided within.

The sun was low on the horizon when he carefully meandered down the street, the lamps that lined the walkway not yet lit for the evening. He knew from Flit's daily reports that this was around the time she and John Cooke typically made their public showing—a promenade of sorts through the streets as proof of John Cooke's above-board behavior. All Spot needed was a flexible space that would serve to both hide him from view and allow him to move easily in and out of it to get Kate's attention.

He settled for a row of gate-high bushes situated in front of the house next door to John Cooke's. He looked around, noting the empty street before hiding himself amidst the shrubbery. He felt anxious, sequestered there in front of a beautifully ornate house and yard, but he quickly reminded himself that this was for Kate.

He was finally going to pry her free from John's clutches.

Perhaps it was this thought that maintained Spot's steadfastness over the next hour. For the street remained quiet and Spot's form became steadily stiffer as he stood uncomfortably frozen in wait. But just as the sun began setting on the horizon, the sky bright red and yellow hues, he heard a gruff male voice in the near distance.

"…with your lollygagging. And now, I'm late. So, hurry along. We're almost there."

It was a strange timbre that made Spot pause—a combination of slickness and hostility that should not exist together. He was surprised to feel the hairs on his arm stand on end at the sound, but quickly shook himself from his thoughts when he heard a voice he knew all too well call out from even further away.

"I'm sorry, John. I'm not feeling very well. I'm not trying to make you late, it's just—"

"I'm not interested in your excuses, Katherine."

Spot narrowed his eyes at their very mundane, but also highly contentious conversation. Kate's voice quivered as she spoke, John's only seeming to harden in response to her fear. Spot sunk further back into the bush when they began to pass in front of him. John was first, huffing ahead of Kate with an assured gait, a glare in his eyes as he turned back to view his lagging companion. Spot took a moment to study the man irritably tapping his foot only a yard in front of him. He was near Spot's height and lean of build, a dark wave of hair across his brow and a coldness in his dark blue eyes.

A handsome, well-dressed, confident man that Spot found himself instantly hating.

"For God's sake," John growled with an intensifying glare as Kate hobbled within Spot's view.

Spot had to immediately stop himself from running to her. Her face was pained, her gait slow as she held an umbrella in one hand and a bag in the other. From far away she glowed beautifully, like a perfect china doll. Spot blinked several times to reorient himself to her new look. Her hair was piled high atop her head in a fashionable bun, her all white dress crisp and tight against her thin form. But as she came closer, Spot peered anxiously at her, noting her sunken eyes and gaunt face, an unmistakable—and concerning—fragility in her movements.

John, however, seemed to care little for Kate's struggle, huffing once more before turning to walk further ahead. Kate sighed, pausing just outside of Spot's reach. He held his breath, waiting for her to take a few more steps in his direction.

"Katherine—come along _now_."

Spot jolted at John's sharp order as did Kate. But when she took a few unsteady paces forward, Spot knew he had to act before it was too late. He looked ahead, watching John turn to walk further toward his house and then gently reached out to grasp Kate's wrist.

It was a bold move, one that Kate gasped loudly at. But in anticipation of any potentially shrill reaction that might follow, he pulled her close to him, knowing nothing better to do than muffle her mouth with his own.

His lips covered hers in first utter desperation. But when he felt the scream die down within her throat, his mouth moved as a swift, but probing passionate reminder. And as he broke apart from her, her eyes wide in both recognition and shock, he knew he had to think fast to get more space between she and John.

So, anxiously looking for anything to aid him, he settled on a charm bracelet that hung loose on Kate's wrist. He yanked it off, meeting her gaze as he threw it as far down the way they had come as possible.

"Tell him you lost it and you have to go back and look for it," Spot whispered frantically, releasing his grip and pushing her gently back into view, praying his hasty plan would work.

"_Katherine_!"

John's bark seemed to immobilize her, but with a swift glance to Spot, she nodded and called out, "John, I think I dropped my charm bracelet a block back. I need to go get it. I don't want to delay you any longer so I'll meet you inside in a few minutes."

John emitted a groan of irritation, but thankfully maintained his distance as he hissed, "Blast it all, Katherine, that bracelet was expensive. Find it and then immediately come back. I need to get my things ready to leave. Don't make me come out here to find you again."

His voice was low and deadly, and Kate's eyes reflected the pure terror that his words were meant to inflict. But she nodded, turning on her heel to painfully make her way back a block. Spot waited several moments until he saw John round the corner out of sight and then carefully followed her.

It was easy to catch up with her slow pace, and he immediately put his arm about her waist to aid her in walking the remainder of the way to the bracelet. The darkening sky was excellent cover as he pulled her close to another wrought iron fence and out of sight.

"God, I've missed you," he breathed as he took her into his hold, grasping her pale face momentarily before pulling her taut against his body and laying his mouth on hers for a quick, but deep kiss. Her lips parted for him, almost instinctively pulling him into her before he broke away. His eyes searched first her face and then her body, carefully running his hands down her arms to gently grasp her torso. "Can you walk? I can carry you if not. And when we get back to Brooklyn I'll have Mary look over everything. You look so thin. Has he not been feeding you?" He pulled her in for another tight embrace, almost unbelieving that he now had her in his arms. But he slowly loosened his grip upon feeling her limp acquiescence.

She pushed weakly against him, her eyes wide with fear as she murmured, "Spot, you—you need to go. You need to get away from here."

"I know," he whispered. "But I'm taking you with me. Whatever is going on, we can deal with it. But I have to get you out of that house and away from him. He's—"

"No," she said firmly, pulling out of his grasp. "No. I can't leave. I tried to explain in my letters—I waited for weeks to hear from you—and—and—" She sighed, rubbing her hands over her arms uncomfortably before meeting his gaze. "If he knew you were here, he'd be so angry. You don't understand. I need you to go. Now. Otherwise—"

"What letters?" Spot murmured, narrowing his eyes in confusion. But Kate only shook her head, nervously checking behind her.

"Look," Spot continued, "I don't care how angry he is. I'm not leaving here without you. Do _you_ understand?"

Spot's impassioned phrasing seemed to leave her stricken. She stared at him in horror, her hands wringing and her lips quivering as she darted her eyes back in the other direction. "Oh, Spot—" she started, a sheen of tears in her darkened eyes. "You need to go. I'm so sorry, but I can't go with you. I just—I can't."

He grasped her arms, gently shaking her back to attention. "What are you talking about? Why not? We can walk away right now and never look back, Kate. I can protect you. You _and_ the baby. Just take the first step with me."

"You don't understand," she pleaded, again pulling against him. "You—you don't understand who you're dealing with—what he's done. I can't leave, Spot, he's—"

But she fell silent as a familiar voice pierced the darkness. "Katherine? Katherine, what's going on? You should have been back by now."

Spot could tell John was far enough away that they could still make their escape. So, he pulled her arm, urgently whispering, "C'mon, Kate! We still have a chance. Everything will be okay now. I've got you—I'll protect you."

Her face hardened as a tear slipped down her cheek. Her green eyes glowed with purpose when they met his widened gaze and she grasped his hands within her own, pulsing them before shakily murmuring, "No, Spot. Let me protect you. You have to leave." She released him, pushing against his form in the other direction, "Hurry. Before he comes."

There was a terror in her face that Spot did not fully understand. So, he stood there, staunchly in opposition to leaving her as John slowly made his way next to Kate.

"Oh dear. I seem to have interrupted something important."

A smirk grew on John's thin lips, a spark of anger and amusement seeming to dance in his eyes as he peered between the two of them. But his cold, emotionless voice belied the sentiments in his words. Spot glared menacingly at the man before him while Kate shook fragilely at his side.

"And who do we have here, Katherine?"

Spot watched uncomfortably as he moved his face to within inches of Kate's, her eyes darting to the ground when he circled once around her.

Like a predator moving in closer for the kill.

"This—" Kate stuttered, "This is—is Phillip, John. One of my parents' old clients. I just ran into him on my way back inside, and—"

But John swiftly walked toward her again, gripping his hands into fists as he bore down upon her and interrupted, "Now, Katherine. Do you really think I wouldn't recognize the famous Spot Conlon?"

Kate's face constricted, her body pulling back from his and her eyes flashing in terror when his hand sturdily grasped her arm. John leaned in close to her face, gritting his teeth. "What did I say about you lying to me?"

John's grip on Kate's arm was steely, his stance seemingly insurmountable as Kate quaked, "Not to."

He yanked her even closer, squeezing tightly. "Or what?"

Kate's eyes widened as he solidified his grip upon her, whispering, "I won't be allowed outside anymore."

Spot suddenly realized that he had been standing there transfixed by the disturbing exchange. John seemed completely consumed by dominating her, Kate having no other choice but to fully submit her body and attention to him which had left Spot's presence wholly inconsequential by default. But when Kate whimpered at John's increasingly violent hold, Spot felt something within him snap into action.

"Hey! Get your hands off her!"

Spot went to stand between the two of them, but John quickly pushed Kate behind him, blocking her from Spot's view as he said lowly, "It would do you well to leave now, Mr. Conlon. Katherine Moore is my concern, not yours, and I will treat her in whatever way I see fit."

Spot glared menacingly at the dark-haired man before him, infuriated by his warning. "She damn well is my concern." He looked beyond John's form, making eye contact with the terrified girl behind him. "Kate, come with me. You don't have to stay with this piece of—"

"Seeing as she is my ward and I am her guardian, Katherine is very much my responsibility and must stay with me," John quickly cut in, a sly smile growing on his lips.

Spot stared in bewilderment, first at John and then at Kate. "Is this true, Kate? Is he your legal guardian, or is he makin' it up?"

But Kate only cowered at the question, her eyes falling to the ground. So, Spot turned back to John, pointing his finger within inches of his face as he angrily muttered, "You can't just keep her here, against her will. I don't know what seedy deal you've rigged up but, she—"

John interrupted Spot's threat with a short laugh before he smirked and said, "I assure you, Mr. Conlon. This is not some slum in Brooklyn. There have been no back-alley dealings in this matter. Her parents were very concerned for her well-being, but unable to give her the care she so desperately needs. I am merely a vessel for Katherine to better herself and start anew—with none of her old mistakes to hold her back."

John stared pointedly at Spot as he enunciated the word "mistakes". But Spot shook his head in response, pushing John aside to step in front of Kate. He grasped her hands, earnestly whispering, "Kate, you can't stay here. There are things that we need to talk about—things that involve me."

It was his desperate attempt to reach her, to bring her to him. But her eyes remained downcast, her hands limp in his hold.

"If you're speaking about the little _mishap_ the two of you brought about, I should let you know that Katherine's actions have taken care of the issue. She is no longer burdened with anything involving you, Mr. Conlon, so you have no further need to seek her out."

Bile rose in Spot's throat, Kate's corresponding wince leaving him even more distraught. "Taken care of? What the hell is he talking about, Kate?"

Her eyes finally lifted to his, tears dripping gently upon her face. She shook her head, her lips struggling to form any words in response. And all Spot could do was stare down at her, slowly understanding what her silence implied.

"What did _you_ do?"

Spot turned to John, aggressively stalking toward him, but John held his hands up in immediate surrender. "I assure you I had nothing to do with _this_." His eyes traveled behind Spot, pinpointing Kate's shaking form. "Why don't you tell him what _you_ did, Katherine?"

John's taunting tone nearly made Spot scream. Instead, he went toward Kate, willing her next words to not be the horrible scenario playing out in his head.

"What happened, Kate? What is he talking about?"

He watched in a state of disbelief as more tears fell upon her face. Her eyes dropped from his, her hands wringing manically as she finally murmured, "I'm so sorry, Spot. I—I didn't want you to find out this way. I just—I felt like I was trapped. That there was no way out, so I—"

But Spot's groan of pain silenced her. The ground beneath his feet seemed to shake, his vision becoming hazy as he felt his insides nearly revolt on the street below him. He shook his head, hoping to clear some of the sickness flowing throughout his body, but it only seemed to worsen it.

"Spot," he heard Kate plead, "Spot—I'm so sorry. Please, you don't understand—I—"

He shook her off, unable to look at her or even hear her voice. "Enough—I—I can't even look at you right now. Just—"

His heart was pounding, his vision turning red as he flashed Kate a glare. Tears were flowing down her face, her lips quivering in panic, but he only backed further away from her.

"How could you?" he hissed at her. "How could you do this to me—to us?"

But the next few moments were filled with only her silence. And he realized then that he didn't want to wait to hear her response. He couldn't. The only thing he wanted to do was turn and walk away from her. It was all he had left in him before he felt every single piece of his insides shatter into nothingness.

* * *

Thanks to Cassey1994, Bea t, Lovefiction, and The Lonely Hunter for being such amazing supports for this story. You guys are my rock and I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Please leave me a review to let me know what you think! :-)


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